Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next morning, I was up before the sun.

I gathered every reminder of us from the master bedroom and boxed it up, ready to throw out on my way out.

Then I went to the walk-in closet and took down my wedding dress from its dust bag.

That gown with its long train took up way too much room.

So I picked up a pair of scissors and cut it into strips, parceling the pieces into a few bags.

Then I carried the two thick wedding albums out to the yard.

I wanted to burn them while the street was still quiet.

The fire lit up my face.

I watched the two of us smiling at each other in every photo turn to ash, my face completely blank.

“Iris, what are you doing?!”

Blake had thought the house was on fire.

He ran out to check, only to find me burning our wedding albums.

I glanced at him. “Nothing.”

My total calm sent him into a rage.

He lunged at the fire, trying to rescue the photos that were still whole.

But the heat was brutal, and the flames drove his hands back.

“Why?!” he demanded, eyes bloodshot.

I looked at him in silence, turned, and walked back inside.

By the time I was done, it was fully light out.

I went to shower and get ready for work.

Blake followed me into the master bedroom.

The moment he saw the stripped-down room and the shredded gown in the closet, his pupils shrank.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was squatting on the floor, trying to piece the dress back together.

I ignored him and sat at my vanity to do my skin care and makeup.

“It's fine,” he said, whether to comfort me or to give himself a reason to accept what I'd done. “Seven years ago, that style was already outdated. We'll go retake new photos when we have time.”

Whatever he meant, I didn't care anymore.

Blake folded the scraps aside and left the bedroom.

By the time I walked out, he was doing something he never did.

Cooking breakfast.

I actually only knew he could cook because of Bella's social posts.

That girl loved documenting her life.

She posted everything Blake ever did for her.

Like the way he'd whip up her favorite late-night noodles when they both worked overtime.

Or how he'd drive her to and from work in the rain.

Or the way he'd carefully pick out a gift she'd been eyeing for her birthday.

Just like this whole trending-star thing: Bella whined that she wanted a star.

So he gave her one.

That night, I tortured myself scrolling through Bella's feed again and again.

I read their whole story from the day they met to now, over and over.

I watched him treat her like something precious, and I couldn't stop.

“Iris, come eat. I made your favorite oatmeal.”

Blake had already smoothed over his feelings, acting like nothing happened.

He sat me down at the table.

I lifted the spoon, took one bite, and put it down.

He looked at me, confused.

“I only eat it sweet,” I said quietly.

I'd heard somewhere that sugar makes your brain release dopamine.

So I'd always been a sucker for anything sweet.

Blake blinked a few times, scrambling to fix it.

“There are fried eggs in the kitchen. Let me grab them.”

I shook my head. “No thanks. I'm in a hurry.”

Yesterday, Bella had posted this: “Yay! Blake promised to bring me breakfast tomorrow. I want fried eggs and a big bowl of hearty, loaded oatmeal!”

Blake caught me at the door, frowning hard.

“Are you mad? Because I wasn't with you yesterday?”

“Something came up at work. I already apologized.”

“The research is almost done. I'm in charge of the team. I can't just focus on romance.”

“You've always supported my work all these years. So what are you even making a scene about this early?”

Right.

That was how we'd always done it.

I loved him, so I swallowed everything.

Even when he got so busy he forgot my birthday, forgot our anniversary, even disappeared for days.

I never complained.

Because I knew this was his dream.

Until one time, after a project wrapped up, he came by the office to pick me up.

I heard his phone going off nonstop.

Blake, who always said replying to messages was a pain, typed away without even looking up, a happy smile on his face.

That was the first time I heard Bella's name from his lips.

A troublesome, naive little junior, he called her.

It was also the first time I understood something.

He didn't hate texting.

He just didn't think I was worth wasting time on.

I pulled my hand out of his.

I looked at him with empty eyes. “All these years, I'm tired.”

“Maybe we should sep...”

His phone rang before I could finish.

Bella's ringtone.

He picked up without even glancing at the screen.

“Hey, what's up?”

Blake had no idea that the moment he answered, his whole voice went soft.

A whining voice crackled through the line.

“Blake, I'm starving to death!”

“When are you coming back? If I waste away before you do, I'm never letting you go.”

Blake laughed, all indulgence.

“Didn't you eat a mountain of crawfish yesterday? Hungry again already?”

“Fine. I'm on my way back now.”

I smiled a cold little smile.

The girl on the other end seemed to sense something.

“Oh! Blake, when you get a chance, bring your wife out for dinner with us sometime.”

“Yesterday was your anniversary, and I stole her star and made you treat me to midnight snacks. We owe her a nice meal!”